


The Forbidden Mansion

by Cybra



Series: Inheritance AU [4]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybra/pseuds/Cybra
Summary: (Inheritance AU) Huey, Dewey, and Louie decide to take Webby up on her offer to learn more about their missing Great-Uncle Scrooge by going over to her home.  What they didn't expect was that she lived where they were never supposed to go.





	The Forbidden Mansion

**Author's Note:**

> This is getting too long for tumblr stuff, so moving it to AO3. I’ll be reposting the other parts here as well along with any future installments of my “Inheritance AU” at some point.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** _Ducktales_ belongs to the Walt Disney Company.

“You live _here?”_ Dewey asked, mouth agape as he looked up at the wrought iron gates.

Written in the ironwork was a giant “M” on one gate and a “D” on the other.  Beyond the gate was a large driveway zigzagging back and forth up the monstrous hill to a stately mansion.

Killmotor Hill and McDuck Manor.

“Oh no.  No no no no no, we are _not_ going in there,” Huey said, backing up. “I’ll call Duckworth for a pickup.  _Away_ from here.”

“What’s the problem?” Webby asked, opening the gate with her key.

“It’s nothing.  Just Huey being Huey.  You know how it is,” Louie said breezily, smiling. “So you were gonna show us this place?”

“Louie, no!”  Huey grabbed his brother from behind, yanking him away from the gate before reaching out to snag Dewey by the backpack.  “We absolutely _cannot_ go in there!  Mom will blow a gasket when she finds out!”

“Relax, bro.  What Mom doesn’t know won’t hurt us.”

“We have to get a pickup _sometime!_   The second Duckworth sees where we are, he’ll tell Mom and—”

“Huey, come on.  Please?” the middle triplet begged.

Huey’s feathers stood on end as Dewey and Louie gave him a dual helping of their best sad puppy eyes.

Dewey continued, “Just think of all the cool stuff in there.  All the neat stories Webby and her granny know…”

The eldest triplet felt his resolve cracking.  After hurrying through lunch, Webby had shown them her collection of clippings on “the Invader of Fort Duckburg”.  All three triplets had been fascinated by their forgotten great-uncle, Scrooge McDuck: Huey by the mysteries he’d solved, Dewey by the adventures he’d had, and Louie by the money he’d acquired while solving mysteries and having adventures.  They’d called their mother just before last period so she wouldn’t have time to try and probe for more details and claimed they were going to work on a history project with one of their classmates at her house this afternoon.  It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Now, Huey regretted his entire existence.

While the mansion atop the hill belonged to the Duck family, the triplets had been strictly forbidden by both their mother and their uncle on two separate occasions from ever setting foot inside the gates.  Aside from the Money Bin, it was the most recognizable location in Duckburg.  Like his brothers, Huey had always wanted to see what was inside.  Unlike his brothers, he had a healthy respect for the rules.

“Think of all the books that are probably in there.  I mean, it’s got a library, right, Webby?” Dewey prompted.

“Oh yeah!  I mean, probably not as nice as the Archives I’ve heard are beneath the Bin, but it’s still really big!”

If Huey weren’t holding on to his brothers, he’d be wringing his hands.  As it was, he was sorely tempted to wring their necks.  They knew his weaknesses far too well just as he knew theirs.

“Think about it, Huey,” Louie purred. “Think of all the history lurking inside there.  And maybe once we wring it dry, we can find a way into the Archives…”

Huey gave a cry of frustration as he let his brothers go.  “If Mom kills us, I’m blaming you!”

“Fair enough,” the youngest triplet said with a shrug. “So, your granny gonna pick us up?”

“Nope!  Now we walk,” Webby chirped before setting off.

The three boys gaped up at the long driveway.

“Well, if she can do it, so can we,” Dewey said gamely, following after the girl.

Huey exchanged a glance with Louie before they did the same.

* * *

 

“There!  That wasn’t so bad, huh, guys?”  Webby paused, waiting for a response.  Hearing none, she turned around. “Guys?”

The three triplets groaned as Louie flopped down onto the ground.

“I regret everything,” Dewey groaned.

“See?” Huey wheezed. “This is what we get for…disobeying Mom and Uncle Donald…instant…karma…”

 “Oh yeah.  Guess you guys wouldn’t be used to that kind of climb.”  Webby nervously chuckled, reaching out a hand to Louie.

“Leave me here to die,” the youngest moaned.

Huey took a few deep breaths, obviously focusing on steadying his breathing.  “We’ve already come this far.  Might as well see what’s inside.”

With a little extra effort, the boys managed to climb the few stairs of the front stoop just as Webby opened the entry doors of the mansion, singing out, “Granny!  I’m home!  And I brought _friends!”_

“Whoa…” Huey and Dewey marveled in harmony.

“Y’know, for an abandoned mansion, it looks pretty clean,” Louie said.

“Of course it is!” Webby huffed indignantly, hands on her hips. “Granny wouldn’t let this place get all dusty and cobweb-y.  She’d never let McDuck Manor fall apart in case he comes home one day.  Mr. McDuck trusted her!”

“‘In case he comes home’?” Dewey echoed as Huey wandered towards the fireplace in the foyer. “I thought Great-Uncle Scrooge was _dead,_ and that’s why Mom and Uncle Donald run the company.”

“Given the circumstances of his disappearance, he was declared legally dead years ago,” a new voice corrected.  Webby ran over to the source, hugging her grandmother tightly. “However, his body was never recovered.  Until there is absolute proof of his demise, I will keep house to his standards on the off-chance he should ever return.”  She gave a thin smile to the children.  “You may call me ‘Mrs. Beakley’.  I’m Webby’s grandmother and caretaker of this mansion.”

Louie scooted in behind his eldest brother, Huey raising his hand awkwardly.  “Uh…hi.  I’m Huey Duck.  That’s my younger brother Dewey and this is my even younger brother Louie.”

Webby bounced up and down excitedly as Mrs. Beakley stared in surprise.

“I didn’t think I would ever see someone of McDuck blood set foot in this house again,” the old woman marveled. “It’s been ten years.”

“Yeah, about that,” Dewey said with a toothy grin. “You mind not telling our mom or uncle?  We’re kinda sorta not supposed to be here.”

“They’re here because they wanted to hear more about Mr. McDuck,” Webby said enthusiastically. “Since you knew him so well, I thought maybe you could tell them a few stories or we could look at more of the articles I found.”

“Well, perhaps.  Webby, why don’t you take the boys with you to look at your collection while I make some more tea for our guests?”

“Thanks, Granny!”  Webby waved the boys on.  “Come on!  You’ll think this is cool!”

* * *

 

Dewey expected a lot more frills and lace from a girl’s room.  The fact that the only doll in Webby’s room was pinned to the wall by an arrow more than proved that he should’ve expected something else from their new friend.

One wall, however, was dominated by a massive bulletin board.  In the center was a photo of the man he was starting to recognize as Scrooge McDuck, a web of yarn leading out from it to photographs and strange phrases: pictures of him and his brothers who’d been unaware of the camera (kind of creepy), pictures of Uncle Donald and their mother (taken from newspapers so slightly less creepy), “The Traitor”, “Dismal Downs: When is Castle McDuck???” (why “when” and not “where”?), “What looms larger than McDuck’s shadow?” (this one repeated elsewhere), “Scrooge’s worst NIGHTMARE”, “Good for the goose” (with accompanying picture of Uncle Gladstone), “Nether World War II”, “22 ÷ 1400 = 87?” (what kind of math was that?!), “Beagleburg”, “friend or FOWL”, “Scotty McDuck à Alternate Timeline? ???”, “Senior Woodchuck Council” (didn’t Huey want to join the Junior Woodchucks a while ago?), “10¢ = #11” (or was there a piece missing since this one was partially folded?), and written in all capital letters, underlined multiple times, “THE LAST TREASURE”.  None of it made sense.   It looked like nothing more than mad ramblings.

“What is all this?” Huey asked.

“The mysteries surrounding your great-uncle, but the one I’m most concerned with is this one.”  Webby pointed to the last note.  “Your Great-Uncle Scrooge’s last treasure hunt.  His target: the Spear of Selene.”  Webby frowned.  “It’s too bad it didn’t happen later when you all would be old enough to remember.  Maybe you could’ve filled in the holes.”

“Wait.  _We were there?!”_ Louie demanded.

“Well, yeah.  The location he was searching in was close to this little town in Greece, so he brought along your mom and you guys even though you’d only hatched three months before.  From everything I could dig up, Mr. McDuck was super protective of new family members or anyone about to or recently had laid eggs, and I think the fact that the Spear was supposed to be located in a relatively safe location was the only reason he brought any of you besides your uncle along.”

Dewey gaped in awe.  It was one thing to see a painting depicting his mother participating in some grand adventure, and another to hear an actual story about it along with the knowledge that he’d actually _been_ on that adventure.  He wondered if Great-Uncle Scrooge would’ve taken them with him on others if the old man hadn’t vanished.

“But you’re here for what we _do_ know about him!” Webby said cheerfully, going to her massive bookshelf and hunting through the stacks.  She finally located the volume she was looking for, opening it up and flipping through the pages. “Here we go!  More on his time in the Klondike!  Not gonna lie: it’s my favorite part.  And you already know a little of it now what with how he and his sisters came to Duckburg.”

Dewey spared one last glance at the web of string before focusing on the album she opened.

* * *

 

Forbidden.  The triplets were _forbidden_ from coming to this place.

Beakley viciously sliced the cucumber with the cruel efficiency of someone who’d been trained to slit throats when necessary.  Despite her anger, each slice was thin and uniform, a mute testament to her levels of skill and control.

Well, this explained why every time Webby tried to bring up the subject of Scrooge in her classes she was shut down:  McDuck Enterprises—or, rather, the Duck twins—had an incredible amount of pull in Duckburg.  Very likely, they’d asked for their famous uncle to be downplayed given it would be impossible to completely erase him for at least another generation or two.

She barely managed to suppress the urge to grab another cucumber from the fridge to slice up her frustrations, but it would’ve been a waste.  Instead, she just as angrily beat the mayonnaise mixture into submission by hand rather than using the hand mixer.  It immensely helped her regain her composure.

People did strange things when they were mourning.  Perhaps pretending their wealthy uncle had never existed was Donald and Della’s way of doing it given how they’d lost him.

It didn’t mean she had to like it.

Regardless of why the duo had thought to keep the triplets from coming to McDuck Manor, they were here now, and Beakley was under no obligation to report them coming here.  Besides, if they had to sneak off somewhere, at least they’d picked one of the two most secure locations in Duckburg to go to.

She finished the cucumber sandwiches, each neat little square made up of the recipe she’d designed to complement Scrooge’s sourdough.  Setting the plate of sandwiches on a tray along with the necessities for a proper tea, Beakley walked the long hallways to her granddaughter’s room.

As part of the daily ritual of Webby’s afterschool tea, she idly wondered what Scrooge would’ve done had he still been around when Beakley became Webby’s guardian.  Would he have allowed her to stay?  Given his fondness for children (even if he could be incredibly awkward around them), she was reasonably certain he would have, but what sort of relationship would the duo have had?  Would Webby and the triplets have been raised together and become close friends?

Expertly balancing her tray so she could knock on the door, Beakley once more discarded the questions.  She was a practical woman, and pondering the “what-ifs” never led to anything productive.  She would revisit the questions in her dreams as her subconscious mind spun through the multitude of possibilities, but for now she would focus on their unexpected guests.

It was at that moment that she realized that she _would_ tell the boys everything she knew about their great-uncle.  Scrooge’s old heart would’ve broken if he’d known his own kin didn’t know him.  Just like keeping the mansion clean, she would ensure that if he ever made it back home, he had people waiting for him.

* * *

 

Della had never seen any of her boys—not even Huey—so excited about a homework project.  The trio were chattering excitedly to themselves in that strange way multiples had where they didn’t have to finish their sentences to perfectly understand each other as they stepped off the elevator into the penthouse.  As bad as the latest board meeting had been and as sore as her throat felt after yet another screaming match with her brother, the sight of her precious children lifted her spirits immensely.  Seeing them actually _interested_ in school even more so.  Given that it was history, there might be a streak of that eagerness to track down lost civilizations that she and Donald had inherited from—

She squashed the thought before it could finish itself, determined not to let her boys see how sad it made her.  She wasn’t going to ruin their good mood with her own bad one.  “So, the project’s going well?”

The boys stopped talking, Huey’s eyes as wide as dinner plates.

As she wondered what was wrong with asking about a simple history project could prompt such a response, Louie said, “Yeah.  Even better than we hoped, to be honest.  We got grouped up with Webby, and she had all kinds of awesome stuff.  You remember Webby, right?”

The question caught her off-guard, and her earlier confusion was swallowed up by her searching her brain for a reference to Webby.  The name did sound familiar somehow, but she wasn’t sure where she’d heard it.  “A little.  Refresh my memory?”

“She lives with her grandma and is kind of a loner at school,” Dewey filled in. “We thought she was weird, but turns out she’s pretty cool.”

That must’ve been where she’d heard the name from.  Satisfied, Della grinned.  “Well, you know the old saying: Don’t judge a book by its cover.  Maybe you could show me what you’re working on.”

“We, uh, left it at Webby’s house.  Sorry,” Huey said, giving an awkward smile.

The co-CEO shrugged.  “No, that makes sense if you want to keep everything together.  Go put your backpacks in your rooms and then let’s have some dinner.  The pizza should be here soon.”

“All right!  Thanks, Mom!” Dewey dashed towards his bedroom.

Huey and Louie didn’t leave right away, Huey’s face clearly distressed.

“Another bad day with Uncle Donald?” he asked.

Della knelt down and ruffled his head feathers.  “A little, but it’s fine.  Tell you what:  Let’s all meet up in the theater room and have dinner there instead of the dining room.”

“Sounds good to us!  We’ll let Dewey know,” Louie said, tugging his older brother along to their rooms.

Shaking her head, Della went to the kitchen.  Might as well see if there was something to drink there that wouldn’t get the boys too hyper before bed.

* * *

 

Despite moving from one shared room to three separate bedrooms when they were younger, the triplets had a tendency to congregate in different bedrooms depending on the situation.  Huey and Dewey’s rooms shared one large balcony with the guest suite, Huey sharing a wall with the guest bedroom given he was less rowdy than Dewey.  Louie’s room, however, was just off of the theater room and a bit isolated with its own covered balcony, tucked away neatly behind the service entrance and stairwell.

It was Louie’s room they gathered in after dinner and a movie, their mother heading off to bed.  Like the other two “small” bedrooms, there was more than enough room for all three boys, particularly with two of them perched on the bed and the third pacing back and forth.

“Mom’s gonna find out,” Huey worried, unable to sit still.

“She’s not gonna find out,” Louie assured him. “Just stick to the plan, and all’s good.  Besides, we technically haven’t lied to her.  Everything was totally true right down to it being a history project.  It’s just a _family_ history project.  Drop the details, and we don’t have to worry about keeping our story straight.  But she _is_ gonna suspect if you don’t learn to chill.”

Huey groaned, flopping down into Louie’s little-used desk chair.

“Tomorrow we meet up with Webby at lunch and work out the schedule.  If we don’t go to her house every day right away, Mom won’t think too much about it.  Then we time bringing Webby over so she’s leaving when Mom comes home so there’s no time to ask questions.  That way Mom knows Webby’s real and she won’t stress about kidnappers or whatever.”  Louie spread his hands.  “It’s flawless.”

“Well, except the part about introducing Mom and Webby.  If we think Captain Stressball is bad, I can’t wait to see how Webby handles it,” Dewey noted.

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I _am,_ but let’s be real here:  Webby gets babbly when she’s nervous.  Remember lunch?”

“Ugh, _fine._   We’ll coach her on what to say before she comes over.  Everybody happy?”

“Not really,” Huey groaned, “but we’re already in too deep to get out of this safely.”

“That’s the spirit,” the youngest triplet encouraged. “So you guys wanna do a sleepover tonight?”

“Love to but can’t.  I gotta finish my math homework,” Dewey grumbled.

“Told you not to do it last-minute,” the eldest triplet said dryly.

“Yeah, yeah.  Kick Louie’s butt at Luigi Kart for me, would ya?”

“Sure,” Huey said, moving away from the desk to take the spot on the bed Dewey vacated while Louie grabbed two of the controllers sitting on his bedside table.

As the game started to load, Louie caught his brother chewing his lower bill.  He sighed.

“Y’know, we _could_ stop if it’s really bugging you.  I guess.”  Louie shrugged.  “I mean, we don’t have to ever go back.  Just the one time is less chance of getting caught.”

To his surprise, Huey shook his head.  “No, I wanna go back.  I’m scared of the explosion that’s gonna happen when Mom and Uncle Donald find out, but Great-Uncle Scrooge sounds amazing.  I just don’t understand why they wanna hide him.  It doesn’t make sense.  They can barely stand each other, but we’re still allowed to stay over on Uncle Donald’s boat some weekends.  With Great-Uncle Scrooge, there’s nothing.  Not even pictures.”

“Yeah,” Louie muttered.  However he gave his head a shake. “But just sitting around worrying about it’s not gonna help.  I have a race to win.”

The last comment had the desired effect:  Huey smirking and gripping his red controller tightly.  “Like _that’s_ gonna happen!”

The mood now lightened, neither boy paid much mind to the view of the moon rising behind Killmotor Hill, McDuck Mansion casting an eerie silhouette against it, from the sliding glass door leading to Louie’s balcony.  Tomorrow all three would resume searching for answers; tonight they would enjoy what might be one of their last few normal nights to come.


End file.
